


Santa Baby

by enigma731



Series: The 12 Days of Chris Muss [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Peter Quill has an 8 year old's knowledge of Earth, Pre-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Traditions, he's trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 21:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: “Okay,” says Peter, glancing down at the stew in front of him. He doesn’t know why he’s so weirdly anxious tonight -- normally he relishes his turn to tell stories while they all eat. But he’s run out of television and movie plots to share, so tonight he's going to do something different.  “So, back on Earth when I was a kid, my favorite holiday was this one called Christmas.”“Chris Muss?” Gamora echoes, eager to learn these things as ever, and also always just...a little bit wrong.“Christmas,” he says again, trying to articulate the syllables more clearly, though he knows the actual problem is the translator-on-translator interaction losing some of the nuance.





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12 Days of Starmora on tumblr.

“Okay,” says Peter, glancing down at the stew in front of him -- something starchy and unmistakably gamey, which is one of Drax’s specialties -- and then back up at his friends, gathered around the table. He doesn’t know why he’s so weirdly anxious tonight -- normally he relishes his turn to tell stories while they all eat. But he’s run out of television and movie plots to share, and isn’t quite ready to move on to more...current things. So tonight, he’s going to try something different.

“Come on, Quill,” Rocket grumbles at his hesitation. “We all know you love suspense too much.”

“Okay,” he repeats, clearing his throat. Groot has _already_ cleaned his plate and is beginning to look around for something else to occupy him, which, really, is what finally gets Peter going. “So, back on Earth when I was a kid, my favorite holiday was this one called Christmas.”

“Chris Muss?” Gamora echoes, eager to learn these things as ever, and also always just...a little bit wrong.

“Christmas,” he says again, trying to articulate the syllables more clearly, though he knows the actual problem is the translator-on-translator interaction losing some of the nuance. 

Across the table, Drax slurps a generous spoonful of the stew, then speaks with his mouth full. “Did it involve ritual sacrifice or combat?” Always his first question, when learning about other cultures.

“No,” says Peter. “It’s a happy holiday.”

Drax shrugs. “Combat can be a joyous occasion!”

Peter sighs, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, but that isn’t the point of Christmas. Pretty much the opposite, actually.”

“A day of pacifism?” Gamora takes an especially large hunk of meat from her stew, examining it for a moment before setting it down on the surface of the table. They only have forks out tonight, so she pulls a tiny dagger from her hip and uses it to slice smaller bites before she resumes eating.

“Uh.” He swallows, momentarily distracted by her. “Right. Well -- not quite _pacifism_ , more just...love. And presents.” In truth, the presents are the thing he remembers most vividly. He’s having trouble remembering some of the details, now that he’s started talking. Okay, maybe a lot of the details. Not that that’s ever been a problem for him before.

Groot takes advantage of the momentary distraction, snaking a vine out across the table and beginning to slowly pull Peter’s bowl away, as if he isn’t going to notice.

“Hey!” scolds Rocket, catching him and gently shooing his vines back out of the way until Groot retracts them, chastised. “You want more, you go get it from the kitchen. You do _not_ take other people’s food. Well, not if we like them.”

Peter picks up his bowl, demonstratively eating a couple bites before continuing his story. “So, the story of Christmas is that...There were these two people. A couple. And the girl was pregnant -- like, _really_ pregnant, except the baby wasn’t her husband’s, it was God’s.” He frowns a bit, wondering if that’s right. He knows this story is supposed to be about, like, faith and purity, probably, but now that he considers, that doesn’t really seem to square with being impregnated by a being other than your husband. 

Apparently Gamora has similar doubts, judging by the look on her face. “So the woman was unfaithful?”

Peter shakes his head. “I don’t think so? People saw it as a miracle, that she was having God’s baby.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Celestials do tend to think that way. I have never met a more narcissistic race.”

“Not a Celestial. Big G, God.” But is that right? And would anyone on Earth have known the difference? “At least, that’s what Terrans believe. One God, who saves you or judges you or whatever after you die.” 

“By putting a baby in you?” asks Drax, leaning back in his chair and upending his bowl into his mouth to catch the last few drops of stew.

“No!” Peter brings his fist down on the surface of the table, the rattle of the dinnerware bringing him back to himself, making him realize that his frustration’s getting out of control.

Gamora reaches out and rests a palm flat against his back, somehow the most soothing thing he’s felt all day. “We want to hear your story, Peter. We’re just trying to be sure we understand.”

And that’s exactly the problem, he realizes. _He_ wants to understand it too, isn’t sure that he does anymore, with the context of the world turned on its head. Only he’s the one telling the story. Out here, he’s the only one who can.

“Okay,” he says for what feels like the dozenth time. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “So the girl was pregnant, and the baby was God’s, but people saw it as a really good thing. You’re just gonna have to trust me on that part.” He glances around the table, and this time nobody interrupts with any questions. “But she and her husband were poor, because they hadn’t really been planning for a baby, you know? She had the baby on their farm, kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

For a moment he can’t help thinking of his own mother, young and lost, with a baby she never expected and a story that nobody would believe. But no matter what he might learn about his heritage, he _isn’t_ and never will be the son of a god. He shoves those thoughts back down and decides to take advantage of the silence that’s continued to fill the room as the others wait for him to continue.

“They named the baby Santa,” says Peter. At least, he’s pretty sure. He _knows_ that name is a part of this story. “And people in the town brought him presents, because they heard that he didn’t have much.”

“That was kind of them,” says Gamora, as though sensing that he needs the encouragement.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, it was. So -- When Santa grew up, he made it a tradition to bring gifts to people all over the world on his birthday. First he did it, then people caught on to the idea and gave gifts to one another in his honor. And that’s the story of Christmas.”

“A worthy tradition,” says Drax. “Giving gifts to those less fortunate.”

Peter nods. “Yes. But you also just gave gifts to the people you loved. Like your family. And your friends.”

“What a sappy sack of shit,” says Rocket, but Peter thinks he detects a hint of warmth in the tone.

“I think it’s nice,” says Gamora, giving him a look of clear disapproval.

“I am Groot?” Jumping up onto the table, Groot snakes out a thin vine, offering Peter one of the tiny white flowers he’s only recently learned to grow. 

“Yeah,” says Peter, grinning. He takes the flower, then offers it to Gamora, who tucks it into her hair. “Yeah, exactly like that.”


End file.
